


sunflower

by izurulovesboats



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, Open ended, angsty pining, author felt things so thats why this exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25588732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izurulovesboats/pseuds/izurulovesboats
Summary: you’re a sunfloweri think your love would be too much(sometimes parvis thinks about will. maybe a little too much.)
Relationships: Alex Parvis/William Strife
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	sunflower

**Author's Note:**

> its been almost a year since i posted here welcome back friends

Maybe it’s his own fault, really. 

The blood altar hums as he sets down the dagger on the warm stone, walking down the runes to sit on the floor. He pulls out a roll of gauze for the new cut on his palm, starting to work away at wrapping the cut comfortably tight. 

His eyes keep wandering, though. Wandering to the man sitting very closed off on a crafting table, swiftly tapping away at his keyboard. 

It shouldn’t be very comfortable, sitting like that. He doesn’t look very relaxed, at least. 

He rips the rest of the gauze from the roll with his teeth, patting the bandage down and putting the roll in his pocket. 

But he doesn’t move after that. 

He stays still, and he watches. 

He watches Strife work. He always  _ has _ watched Strife work. He’s studied the way he moves, the way he reacts. His green freckles glow bright when he’s flustered. He tenses when he’s hugged. He shoves his shaking hands into his dress pants pockets when he’s nervous. 

Hell, he could be a damn William Strife encyclopedia. 

He looks away, looking up at the ceiling, finally peeling his eyes away from Strife on the off-chance he catches him staring. He pulls his knees to his chest, and his hands absentmindedly pick at the rips in his jeans. 

Since putting the golden block into the altar and waiting for it to mold itself into a new blood orb, it left him tons of time to think about how soft Strife’s hair looked, or how Strife could look at a problem and come up with a solution, or how Parvis could say something knowingly stupid just to watch Will laugh and his freckles flare with neon light. 

Simply put, the tedious time making the blood orb left Parvis with tons of time to think about how he’ll never tell Strife how he feels. 

He can feel heat rise from his lungs to his cheeks. He sighs. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell him. No, quite the opposite, actually. He wants to tell him so,  _ so  _ badly. 

But when you’re already convinced everything you touch turns bad, it’s hard to. 

What if it’s a hard no from Strife, and he freaks him out so much that he never comes back to the castle again? What if that’s it? If telling him ‘hey, I think I like you’ is the game over for their friendship? 

He doesn’t want to ruin that. He closes his eyes. 

So, instead, he’s been there for him whenever he could. Following Will to his tower when he asks. 

Letting Strife vent about his coworkers or something that annoyed him. Bringing him gifts and drowning him in lung-crushing hugs whenever time permits. Draping a blanket over him when he’s passed out at his work desk for the night. 

Hoping to God some sort of love language barrier is broken, and they both just..  _ know _ one day. 

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize that this is so short, i wrote this at like 1am whilst feeling things


End file.
